‘At least you can feel some shame.’ I kept my voice light, if not entirely cordial.
Rassa attempted a smile, sunny again. ‘I can feel many things. Shame, happiness, sadness… desire.’
‘I don’t wish to hear of your conquests!’
He coaxed me into taking his arm when we left the gardens. We probably looked like an ideal pair of royal cousins. No one would know there should have been invisible briars curling between us, the thorns sharp and poisoned.
Chapter Eighteen
Xania
I woke to hammering on my door.
I shot upright. Sunlight pierced the edges of my curtains, brighter than when I normally woke. My throat swelled with panic.
I hurtled out of bed and opened the door so fast, Zola almost hit me with the fist she’d held up for another knock.
‘You overslept! You never oversleep.’
‘What’s wrong?’ I was normally early, so hopefully Coin would forgive me this once. My stomach grumbled. I peered hopefully at the wrapped napkins balanced on her palm.
‘The Othayrian delegation’s already arrived,’ she said.
All thoughts of food fled from my mind. We hadn’t expected them until this evening. They must have travelled through the night. Why was everyone obsessed with arriving early?
I grabbed the napkins, and hauled Zola inside with my other hand. ‘Help me get dressed.’
When I was mostly presentable, we ran towards the throne room. ‘What’s the prince like?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Zola said. ‘The entourage met Her Majesty in private. But she’s introducing him to the Court now.’
We reached the throne room and plunged into the crowd, squeezing by people until we found Mama and Lord Martain near a pillar.
Mama frowned. Zola and I had done an acceptable job, considering our speed, but I probably radiated hints of a frazzled morning. Mama, naturally, looked impeccable.
‘I overslept,’ I said, before she could say anything.
‘You work too hard for Coin,’ she said.
‘I’ll always be grateful he took a chance on me.’ Coin had been quieter since Brenna’s death. I kept thinking about their private meeting, and whether he knew more than I’d realised.
‘There’s a point when gratitude is no longer required,’ Mama said, ‘and when he should no longer expect it. We’re in a lower Step, not destitute.’
Zola stopped the foundations of an argument by clutching my arm. ‘Look at him.’
The morning sun took great pleasure in shining upon Prince Aubrey’s black hair and light brown skin. His nose was long and straight; no fist fights in his youth. He stood at least a foot taller than Lia, and there were hints of muscle under his layers of linen and silk.
Every courtier would be swooning after him by noon.
Lia would have to fall for him. It would be ludicrous not to.
I felt the phantom touch of her fingertips under my chin, remembered how I could hardly breathe while she’d stared at me – all the times she’d teased and flattered, weighing certain words and sentences –
‘He’s handsome,’ I said, when I realised Zola was waiting for my verdict.
‘Only handsome? If Her Majesty won’t marry him, I will.’
‘He’s not saying much.’
‘They rode through the night,’ Mama said. ‘You wouldn’t be saying much, either.’
Lia sat on the throne, carrying most of the conversation with Aubrey. Small talk apparently didn’t come easy for him – unusual in a prince. But, as Mama had said, he’d ridden through the night. Remarks about the weather and first impressions of Edar would be a struggle for anyone right now.
Lia knew what was expected of her. She kept eye contact, her body angled towards him, though she didn’t flirt or try anything untoward. She murmured something, making Aubrey suddenly laugh. It was impossible not to look at them, side by side, and see the powerful couple they could become.
A muscle twinged in my neck.
Lia rose from the throne. As Aubrey hovered behind her, she stepped to the edge of the dais, ready to formally introduce him. Pressure tightened in my chest. As if I had any right to resent him.
He’d probably make her laugh, eventually.
Chapter Nineteen
Lia
Princess Isra, the youngest Eshvon royal – and the reason we’d bargained grain at a better price – arrived two days after Aubrey. She stepped from the carriage, entirely focused on me, while no one else could take their eyes off her.
My pulse raced.
If Isra had been the second or third daughter, she’d have more marriage offers than she knew what to do with. But she was the youngest, and even beauty only mattered so much at the bottom rung of the inheritance ladder.
Isra lived in southern Eshvon, close to Rijaan, where Xania’s great-grandmother had come from. (I couldn’t think of Xania right now. Not now, not like this.) Isra’s brown skin, with warm bronze undertones, had deepened from the summer heat. She wore linen and trousers, and Eshvon’s famed burnished gold jewellery. My hopeful suitor waited behind her.
Isra paused at the top of the steps, then bowed.
Someone in the crowd sighed.
‘Your Majesty,’ Isra said, ‘I bring congratulations from their Royal Majesties, my honoured parents, upon your ascension.’
‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ I said, relieved my voice was steady. ‘Long may their reign continue.’
During Uncle’s reign, Queen Juliaane had kept her existing trade agreements but openly disliked our Parliament’s rising power. Now I was Queen, Juliaane had regained interest. Her eagerness didn’t sit well with me, but I couldn’t show my displeasure until after the Eshvon caravans arrived.
Isra flicked her fingers at the waiting suitor. ‘My brother, Prince Hasan.’ He stepped forward, nervous, but executed a perfect bow. The eldest son, but in matriarchal Eshvon, Isra was in control.
‘Your Majesty,’ Hasan said. I held out my hand. He brushed his lips over it, then smiled hesitantly.
I returned his smile. Harmless. Utterly harmless. It was his sister I had to worry about.
‘Prince Hasan,’ I said, ‘we bid you welcome.’
Rassa stood in the crowd, thin-lipped with annoyance. Farezi and Eshvon had a long tradition of misunderstanding each other. Matthias caught my gaze and raised his eyebrows. Xania, standing beside him, kept her attention on Isra. I’d seen Xania once since Aubrey’s arrival, when she’d stiffly apologised for not anticipating Othayria’s unexpected entrance.
Matthias sauntered over at my gesture, but Xania slipped away.
A week later, I arrived for breakfast and found Xania and Matthias talking quietly. He’d finally coaxed her to rejoin us – since Isra’s arrival, Xania had pulled back from me. She was my Whispers, a member of the Treasury, one of my ladies – but we didn’t feel like friends right now. Maybe I’d only imagined we could have been.
‘Good morning, Lia,’ Matthias said, and poured my coffee.
‘Morning.’ I took a gulp, welcoming the burn, and ripped a roll to pieces.
He eyed my plate. ‘You slept wonderfully, then.’
‘No one else is awake?’ Xania asked.
‘Of course not.’ I poured a bowl of chocolate, which Aubrey was fond of and the younger courtiers had embraced, and dipped my bread into it. ‘They don’t have countries to run, so they can drink and sleep as much as they like.’
The morning was cool and overcast, with rain threatened later. The Court would remain inside and entertain the Othayrian and Eshvon guests, while those from Farezi slept off their hangovers. Except for Rassa, who drank less so he could remember everything that was said. He’d probably try to annoy me later while I worked through paperwork. Xania would be in the Treasury, while Matthias helped me catch up and kept Rassa at bay.
Apart from a morning hour and time spent with public appeals, my life had turned into days of walking, gossiping, and riding. I drank rivers of coffe
e and tea during lunches, dinners, and private entertainments. And everyone smiled, and laughed, and flattered, flattered, flattered. I was ready to scream, and Matthias had grown anxious about the piles of paperwork.
Edar couldn’t grind to a halt while I chose a suitor, and I wouldn’t evoke my uncle’s memory by delegating in favour of entertaining. I hoped today would mark a subtle shift in expectations. The royals would wake and discover I’d spent the morning working and, because I had a Court ready to entertain them, that more of my future time would be spent doing the same.
‘Has Vigrante tried anything?’ I asked.
‘Not yet, Your Majesty,’ Xania said, as if I wouldn’t notice her reversion to my title.
Matthias, who’d watched my bread dipping in horrified fascination, grimaced.
‘He goes out of his way to speak with Princess Isra,’ Xania said. ‘They’re cordial in public. It’s too soon for them to have private meetings, but I’ll station agents in the passages around his rooms and the Eshvon suites.’
‘And the Othayrian suites,’ I said. ‘Vigrante might try to befriend her through Aubrey. Be careful around Vigrante’s part of the passages. We should assume Uncle told him about them.’
‘Do you think Vigrante knows about our deal with Eshvon?’ Matthias asked.
‘Juliaane and I were careful, but all it takes is one loose tongue.’
He glanced at Xania. ‘Isn’t Zola playing for Princess Isra tonight?’
She nodded. When Isra had learned that Zola practised with the royal orchestra, she’d insisted on a performance.
‘How does Zola feel about Isra’s interest in her music?’ I asked.
Xania raised an eyebrow. ‘She knows better than to question it.’
‘Oh, before I forget,’ I said, attempting nonchalance. ‘Aubrey recommended a writer to me. I read one of her books and I think you’d enjoy it. Perhaps you could join me one evening, and I’ll give it to you.’ Every time I convinced myself to follow through with this, I also remembered what had happened to Brenna and Naruum because of their feelings.
And yet…
Matthias examined my bowl of chocolate as if to give us a poor illusion of privacy.
Hopeless, I thought. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeful.
‘I …’ Xania stopped, as if hoping she could politely refuse without causing offence, when others would practically commit murder for the invitation. ‘I… I’d be delighted, Your Majesty.’
Matthias whipped his head up, his surprise mirroring my own. Xania shifted in her seat, but otherwise stayed calm. Did she actually want to spend time with me, or did she feel she couldn’t refuse?
‘Wonderful. I’m looking forward to your sister’s performance.’ I drained my coffee and stood. ‘Matthias, I expect you in my office in ten minutes. Paperwork awaits.’
He saluted me. I swiped him playfully across the head; he laughed and ducked. After saying goodbye to Xania, I hurried towards my office. With any luck, I’d be safely behind my desk before anyone came looking for me.
Chapter Twenty
Xania
Prince Aubrey of Othayria was pleasant, kind, and didn’t gossip. He was patient with courtiers who became emotionally undone in his presence, but didn’t overly favour anyone. He probably worked through a list in revolving order for walks, discussions, and literary and musical recitations.
But I couldn’t resent him for enjoying Zola’s music. ‘The Eshvon Court appreciates musical ability almost above all else. Isra’s excited to hear your sister play.’
His kindness seemed genuine. He found something to compliment in everyone.
‘You’re both very kind, Prince Aubrey.’
I still didn’t like him.
‘He could be nice,’ Matthias had said earlier, after Lia left. ‘Nice people do exist.’
‘He’s a prince,’ I’d replied. ‘Princes aren’t nice.’
I liked being with them for breakfast again. I’d missed Lia, usually at night when I normally reported to her. This still surprised me. I’d become comfortable with our formality turning into a royal version of friendship. Too comfortable.
I’d no choice but to stack formality between us again. The foreign nobility had reminded me, sharply, of the gulf between us. I was her Whispers. She could like my company, but I’d never be anything more to her. I had to remember that, especially when wishful thinking tried to convince me otherwise.
She’d marry – probably Aubrey – and have children and rule Edar until she died. Maybe one day she’d feel obliged to elevate me to a higher Step, and I would despise her pity.
But I couldn’t imagine Aubrey as her husband.
‘Do you play, Miss Bayonn?’ he asked, jerking me out of my grim reverie.
I fixed a smile to my face. ‘The viola, like my sister. Papa had no musical ability, so he lived through us.’
‘You’re not playing tonight?’
‘My sister has the talent, Your Highness. I’m merely proficient.’
I’d been perfectly fine before I met Lia. Spending time with Zola had been enough, as had learning the necessary skills to avenge Papa. Matthias had filled the need for an occasional friend. But Lia offered something beyond friendship, fragile and possibly wonderful. It excited and frightened me.
The doors opened. Everyone sank into curtseys and bows as Lia entered, wearing a deep blue dress with a silver netting overskirt. Aubrey stepped forward to greet her. I moved towards Terize and the other ladies.
Lia stopped me, gesturing to the chair on her left. ‘Here, if you please, Miss Bayonn.’ My stomach clenched. It wasn’t the seat of highest honour – that was Aubrey’s on her right – but she was still ignoring protocol. Thin as their blood link was, Rassa was still entitled to her favour. She had put me in his seat.
She pressed her fingers against my arm. ‘Rassa will survive. Compliment his eyelashes.’
I raised an eyebrow, and her smile sharpened.
Every time I tried to stay unnoticed, she dragged me into full view. Maybe she wanted to keep me a secret in plain sight.
Footsteps stopped before us. I glanced up at Rassa; he did little to hide his surprise.
‘Cousin?’ He spoke politely, but with a hint of condescension, as if reminding Lia of his place. Like any of us could forget.
‘Since Miss Bayonn’s sister is playing tonight, Cousin,’ Lia said, ‘I’ve given her a place of honour.’
‘Of course.’ Rassa beamed insincerely. ‘And Prince Aubrey?’
‘Prince Aubrey and I have a conversation to resume.’ Lia’s politeness sprouted thorns.
In other words: she was seriously considering Aubrey as a suitor, and favouring him accordingly.
I should have been happy. Aubrey was the ideal suitor. Instead, I wanted to punch his symmetrically handsome face.
Everything kept betraying me: my body, my feelings, my common sense.
Rassa’s gaze locked with Lia’s, though his body language stayed calm. Aubrey stiffened. I slowed my breathing.
Then Rassa dropped into the seat beside me with a flourish. ‘Miss Bayonn.’
‘Your Highness.’ I reluctantly held out my hand, then gently tugged it out of Rassa’s grip after he kissed it.
Rassa watched people as if gauging their potential usefulness, calculating how long he’d have to humour them. People whispered he’d left a trail of discarded allies and broken hearts back home. I’d managed to secure more agents into place before he’d left Farezi, and their information confirmed some of the rumours. His sincere lack of responsibility set Lia’s teeth on edge.
He had a dashing smile when it was genuine. I didn’t want it directed at me.
‘Miss Bayonn.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘I’ve done my research on you.’
The back of my throat prickled. ‘There’s little to know about me, Your Highness.’
He laughed too loud, deliberately drawing gazes towards us.
Lia stiffened, but kept her attention on Aubrey.
&nb
sp; ‘Everyone has secrets,’ Rassa said.
If he was going to play this game, I’d humour him with as much decorum as my rank allowed. ‘Even you?’
‘Especially me.’
‘Then what do you know about me, Your Highness?’
‘Miss Xania Bayonn, elder daughter of Lady Harynne and the late Baron Bayonn,’ he said, ‘born Third Step, now Fifth thanks to your stepfather, Lord Martain. Through your father, you have little fortune of your own.’
I kept my smile steady. When Papa became besotted with Mama, he’d exaggerated the health of his finances. While Mama had been flattered by Papa’s interest, marrying him was also a way onto the Steps. When he’d admitted his genteel poverty, she still married him, but never lost her hard practicality. Since it had saved us after Papa’s death, I could only hope I’d inherited it.
‘It’s curious,’ Rassa continued. ‘I know enough about Edar’s Steps that Fifth isn’t usually high enough to warrant royal attention. What does Lia see in you?’
I want to kill our common enemy. ‘I make her laugh.’
‘That’s all it takes to join Lia’s ladies? Amuse her?’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
A line appeared between Rassa’s eyebrows. He really was ludicrously handsome. As Lia wore Edar’s colours, he sported Farezi’s: a golden silk shirt, with dark green embroidery at the collar and cuffs, and a fitted waistcoat in the same green. He sprawled in his chair, his ankles crossed. A calculated facade on display.
‘You must certainly be… amusing,’ he said.
I’d assumed Lia liked whom she pleased. She certainly hinted her attraction to me. But Rassa implied something delicate and secret. Lia had never flirted or become involved in romance. I’d assumed she took her future duty seriously and wanted to avoid unnecessary complications, but maybe she wasn’t attracted to men.
If Lia had been bumped down the succession line, as everyone had assumed would happen, she could have married any noble lady she wanted. But she was Queen and needed her own heir.
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